


Scars

by theshizniiit



Series: Travis Feels [1]
Category: Common Law
Genre: Child Neglect, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:09:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshizniiit/pseuds/theshizniiit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Wes and Travis going over old scars. Travis has some from his childhood and Wes has a couple from his first few weeks on the beat."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

They both had scars. It’s just that Travis never wanted to talk about his.

A couple of drinks and one intimate moment later and Wes was pointing out the pale white scar on his forearm and slurring out a story about being grazed with a crowbar by a perp on his second week on the beat.

Wes had a shiny new cops badge and the perp had a weapon.

"Didn’t really hurt," Wes slurs, leaning on Travis and grinning, "It was like initiation into the force. Alex nearly blew a gasket when she saw it." 

Travis laughs as he and Wes stumble into the cab, both of their minds buzzing, their limb lax and their mouths smiling.

"And I got this one," Wes starts, hiking up his suit pants and pointing out a light scar on his calf, "From grazing some barbed wire jumping the fence when I was chasing this guy. He stole something, don’t remember what." the blond squints intently, trying to remember when he sustained the injury before he says,"It was about two months in, I think."

"Clumsy." Travis laughs.

~

Travis doesn’t share the story behind  _his_  scars until weeks later.

They’re laying in Wes’ hotel room, the burden of a case hanging over them, pressing them both into the mattress, melancholy lacing the air and making it thick. Missing children usually had that affect. Those cases were always the worst. Wes quickly learned that any case involving children set Travis on edge and left the man either in explosive fits of guilt, sadness and anger, or relief and happiness. It depended on whether the child was found safe and sound or…not safe and sound.

Wes traces a line down Travis’ bicep, the scar raised and keloided, a question in his eyes.

Travis sighs, “One of my foster homes. The mom was fine. The dad wasn’t very nice.”

Wes’ breath stops and his anger spikes, “What happened?”

"Wouldn’t stop crying." Travis deadpans, eyes tired, "So naturally he thought that waving a knife at me would be a good idea."

Wes’ throat constricts, “How old were you?”

"Six, I think."

Wes isn’t an aggressive man, he stifles his emotions and uses his head to solve problems. He isn’t prone to acting out of emotion, but thinking about Travis, only six years old with big blue eyes being hurt by some brute with no patience makes his blood boil.

"Not all of the foster homes were good, huh?" Wes says, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Nope." Travis sighs, pointing to another scar, circular and on his forearm, "Got this one from a foster mother who hated it when I ran in the house." He says it flippantly, with no overruling emotion or emphasis. He could be talking about the weather and his tone would be no different.

Wes blanches.

"Travis" Wes says carefully, eyeing the man laying next to him, "That looks like a cigar burn."

"Good job detective." Travis smirks, "That’s because it is."

The brown skinned man shifts and points to another scar. He’s started sharing bits of his childhood with Wes, laying on his bed, that he finds that now he can’t stop. He doesn’t talk about the less than stellar aspects of his life in foster care when he was a kid, but he finds that now that he’s opened up, he’s feeling like a train with no brakes. Words spill out of him. He can’t help it. Wes just listens and doesn’t say a word, because for all the bravado Travis puts up he doesn’t actually share much about himself or about his childhood other than the odd story, and it’s always something silly or lighthearted.

So Wes settles in next to his partner, their arms touching as they lay side by side on the bed, and listens to Travis spill his guts about every bad thing and every scar he’s collected because of it. He listens when Travis talks about how he ended up with a broken arm because one of his worse foster moms was a drunk and for some reason  _really_  didn’t like Travis. He hears about the time his foster father attacked him with a beer bottle. Or the time when an older foster sibling started hanging out with the wrong crowd and a group of men came looking for them and Travis got caught up in the fight that broke out after.

At some points he veers off from the subject of scars and where he got them and starts rambling about the sterile white of the social worker’s office and tests he had to take to prove that he isn’t completely broken, despite the fact that no one would adopt him and no one wanted him. The looks from teachers when he would say that he couldn’t do his homework because his foster siblings needed help with theirs, or because one of his foster parents were on a bender and he had to be up all night making sure that the younger kids never got hurt. He talks about hiding his scars from his bad foster homes from his teachers, so they don’t call social services and move him to another home, because he got so sick of being moved around. He tells Wes about never having anything to share in class about how summer went because no one wants to hear about social workers, or abuse or the stories about how one of his siblings went missing or ran away, or about how one got caught up in gang activity.

He tells Wes about feeling unwanted and lonely, even though he had other kids, but how that wasn’t enough because no home was permanent and no family was either. Wes listens as he tells him about how he would wonder about his birth mom and why she didn’t want him. He talks about the feeling of jealousy when he came across another kid who had parents and a home and had Christmases to celebrate and Thanksgivings to spend with families. About how his childhood helped shape him and how he deals with relationships and how when he ended up dating his old partner Phil, he didn’t know that he wasn’t being treated right because that’s just how he’s  _always_  been treated. Phil was rude, dismissive, mean and degrading, but Travis didn’t pick up on that. That that wasn’t how things were supposed to be. He didn’t know the difference.

Eventually he goes back to scars.

"…and I got this one from when my foster father got drunk one night and went after one of the smaller kids," Travis mumbles, looking his wrist thoughtfully, "I had to wrestle him away, got cut up pretty good too." He drops his wrist and says, "We were removed the next day. That’s why I only visit my  _good_  foster moms. They made everything okay, in the end.”

Wes is silent, anger clawing at him just beneath his skin. He’s furious. He acts like his partner is a huge pain in the ass, and he is, but the fact that people went out of their way to hurt him just because they could makes him want to scream. Wes isn’t an emotional man, but he feels like ripping someone apart at the moment.

Travis shifts, as if he’s just realizing what he’s done and sputters, “Sorry man, didn’t mean to say all of that, I don’t know what-“

Wes kisses him.

"Thanks for trusting me enough to share that with me." the blond says, "I guess we’re making progress in therapy, huh?"

Travis is wide eyed and staring at him before grin breaks out over his face.

"Whatever you say, man."

Wes rolls his eyes and gets up, looking down at his partner.

"Come on. Time for dinner." Wes says, partially to show Travis that nothing has changed between them, despite what Travis has just shared with him, and partially because he’s actually starving.

"Where are we headed?"

"There’s a new salad bar that-"

"Dude,  _no_.”

"Why not?"

"Because it sounds  _terrible_.” Travis says, “Burgers. We’re getting burgers.”

"Fine, but I’m picking where we eat for lunch tomorrow."

Travis punches the air with a victory cry and bounces out of the room, leaving Wes staring after him.

The blond smiles, turns off the light and follows his partner.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.


End file.
